


Snowberries and Maple Wood

by Lioness_of_Silver_and_Green



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Elder Scrolls Lore, Gen, Murder Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Skyrim Main Quest, Road Trips, no beta read we die like mne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21690004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lioness_of_Silver_and_Green/pseuds/Lioness_of_Silver_and_Green
Summary: The day Roy saved the stranger, he didn't know what he was signing himself for. He had left behind his days as a man of action, of bows and guns and punches and knives. He wasn't a ranger anymore, wasn't a Blade either. He had lost everything and was just in his way to visit an old friend in the eastern border of Skyrim.But he had found the stranger when he was crossing the border of the Reach. And the stranger had sworn to pay his debt throughout Roy's journey to the east.And then, they've found trouble.-----------This is a crossover of the Batfam side of the DCU with a hypothetical post-canon Skyrim. This is kind of a road trip story, a compendium of short stories, and a making-of for the Outlaws as a team in this alternate universe.
Relationships: Roy Harper & Jason Todd
Kudos: 6





	1. Water and Ice

**Author's Note:**

> I like dragons a lot. So I reinstalled Skyrim in my PC.  
> And then I went to the net and looked for some lore on TES Dragons.  
> And lost a few hours there jumping from page to page.  
> And in the end, I didn't play Skyrim at all.
> 
> But I ended writing something. This was going to be a prompt, a few notes haphazardly put together. But AO3 doesn't like them. So here I am, starting a new fic that I don't know where it really would end beyond a few inicial ideas.
> 
> Expect lots of differences, liberties and inaccuracy in regards of the two fandoms that this work springs from. This is a very alternate universe that I'm writing on the go, and I have to admit that I don't know a lot about a lot of things (bless the wikies and the Internet).

Midyear the 14th in the year of the Fourth Era 625.

It was nothing short of a miracle that Roy heard the barks over the racket of the rain and the wind.

He was looking for a place to wait until the storm had passed, abandoning the very blurred path used by the clans and entering a gorge in hopes of finding a natural shelter big enough for Berry, the baggage she was carrying in his stead, and himself. The auburn coloured mare had had enough with climbing up through the rocky moors that crossed the Druadach Mountains by the southwest of the Reach. It wasn’t fair making her climb down with him in her saddle, even less so when she also had to deal with the increasingly swamping terrain.

They were approaching one of the sources of the Karth and the reverberation of its waters running down added to the deafening noise of Nature. And yet, he could hear the barks, like desperate cries. In fact, at first, he did think it was somebody’s cry from somewhere farther. Not the more reassuring thought; the mountains were dangerous for both native and foreigner travellers alike. But then, when Berry tilted her head upwards and neighed, he saw it. A few steps ahead, on top of a tall stone sideways the trail, a fox was sitting, observing aloft. It barked again, jumped down and, after looking pointedly at them, disappeared down the stream’s ravine.

It didn’t take a genius to get the message.

“Let’s see what the fuss is about,” he told Berry, soothing her. He guided the mare to the stone, hanging and securing her reins around it, and looked down.

The creek was running muddy and unleashed because of the rain; one could say it looked almost rabid. The narrow bank was absolutely overflowing, but the space above it was stark, grey stone dominating the few feet between water and road.

The fox was nowhere to be seen.

“What the fuck?” he puzzled, his voice magnified several times over by the tunnelled wind. He put on tighter his hooded cape.

“Help!” followed another, now very human sounding, cry.

In the middle of the creek, a young man—younger than Roy at least—was hanging off a rock for dear life. His own dear life.

“Shit,” Roy muttered. The stranger was about to lose his battle against the stream and the storm.

He didn’t think twice. Roy pulled one of his grappling wires out of his bag, tied it to one of his grapnel arrows, and looked for the right place in the benched bank on the other side of the stream. He had to choose carefully the place where he would aim, because the hovering wire had to pass close enough to the stranger that he could easily reach and grip it.

“Going to help me or what?”

“Bossy, aren’t we?!” Roy cried back.

He descended the benched bank a few feet down the stream and stood in place. He had already chosen a nice spot a few dozens meters up the other side’s bank. So Roy gripped the bow, drew his arrow, aimed and released. His arrow dug the hook strong between a few folded rocks, the wire crossing over the stranger’s head just close enough for him to reach it without effort. A perfect shot.

“Oh, not bad,” the stranger commented after following the wire with his gaze. He spat water and took a better grip on the rock. "A bit t-too high, but nice."

Well, almost perfect. A good shot, anyways.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Roy huffed low. He hammered the other end of the grappling device between the rocks at the height of his knees and signalled the stranger to hold onto the wire and slade. “The wire is connected to a set of pulleys,” he shouted over the noise. “Just let the stream carry your weight over here.”

Struggling, the stranger let go off the rock and jumped for the wire, the strength of the current almost making him miss it. He advanced slowly towards Roy, the pulleys’ resistance making most of the work.

Despite it, Roy almost jumped to the creek when the stranger lost grip of the wire in one hand.

“Clumsy f-fingers,” the stranger chuckled, strain visible in his face. “So freaking cold.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Roy commented. The summer was about to knock at the door, the snow was melting in the highlands bordering Dragonstar and that’s why he had chosen to cross the range there instead of boarding a ship to Solitude. But that corner of Skyrim was never warm. Even under all the layers of clothing, the cool and the dampness had started to affect him, his faulty right arm as clumsy as the fingers of the stranger’s hands.

"I f-fucking hate c-cold."

“Almost here,” Roy encouraged. Now that he was closer, he could see that the stranger was built like an imperial: rather tall and muscular, but not too broad, sharp-faced and a dark shade in his hair. He had a fairer skin tone than one, though; and seemed to have light blue eyes, like a nord or a breton would.

He helped the stranger stand on his feet when he came to the ground. He was shaking.

“T-Thank you...” the stranger said, narrowing his eyes on Roy.

“Roy Harper.”

“Ja… T… Fu-F—” his teeth chattering without a break. He pulled through with obvious effort. “F-Fawkes, J-Jayred Fawkes,” the stranger offered his hand. Or tried to, the layers of soaked fabric too heavy for him to lift his arm.

“Nice to meet you, Jayred,” Roy shook their hands, catching hold of him by the armpits afterwards. “Now, I usually don’t go saying this to perfect strangers, but we really, really need you to get rid of those clothes,” he said, helping the younger man to navigate up the rocky bank.

The stranger smirked. “Not even r-roses ‘nd bunch o’ f-flatterin’ words? You hurt m’ f-feelings, arch. Fly your f-fancy arrows ‘ther way,” he replied, weak. The cold was clearly winning the war, and Roy was starting to feel that he was dragging him instead of helping him walk.

“Well, I can’t bring you roses, but I’ll set a fire to warm your heart. How about that?”

The stranger chuckled, but didn’t say anymore. They were on the road again. Roy propped him against the rock where he had found the fox, and looked at him. The stranger had his eyes closed, his breath slow and shallow.

“Hey, Jayred. Jay, stay with me, pal.”  _ Shit _ . They needed to find a place to dry and rest soon. He also needed to retrieve his grappling arrow, or the clans would know an outlander was passing through their turf. “Jay, I need you to wait here and stay awake, alright? I’ll be back in a second, promise.”

The younger man straightened and took a deep breath. Somehow, it felt as if the air around them heated a few degrees. “Go upstream, a little less than a mile from here. There’s a big niche behind a waterfall that’s accessible this side of the creek.”

“How do you know that?”

Jay chuckled again. “Being dragged and almost drowned by a wild river has its perks. Besides,” he continued, opening his eyes. And if Roy were asked now, he would have said that those were now a fiercer teal. And they felt like a dangerous shade, the colour of the elder ice. “What kind of hunter would I be if I didn’t know where to prey upon?”


	2. Feed the other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy asks questions, Jason gives some answers.  
> Jason asks questions, Roy gives some answers.  
> And in the end, they agreed to some deal.
> 
> Boy meets boy, except, not really.

That same day, at nightfall.

Jason came to running water, cracking, flickering light and the weight of something soft but sturdy against his naked skin. He felt pleasantly warm.

_ Good _ . Jason couldn’t help moaning.

He shut his eyes.

_ Wait. _

He was suddenly hit by his situational awareness, deeply instilled by the experience of a young yet intense life and commiting training. He had been stripped of his clothes and weapons, he felt too woozy to even sit up, he was lying on the ground with his back absolutely open to whoever had taken care of him, and he was technically blinded by the fire that he was now delightfully facing.

Jason groaned. What would the Bat say if he saw him so… unconcerned.

_ So warm.  _ He moaned again.

Well, who really cared about what Bruce would say? Not Jason, not now. That’s for sure.

And he didn’t care because he was safe.

And he was safe because…

The archer.  _ Roy Harper. _

By Kyne, wasn’t that a fluke?

Jason laughed. Considering the circumstances, it may have been a stroke of luck absolutely plotted by the Mother herself.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Harper said from somewhere behind.

Yes, definitely not a coincidence. He had to be wary; he knew better than to trust any gift from the et’Ada. Those never were free of charge. But that didn’t mean he was going to waste said gift, either. He knew the archer, even if the archer didn’t know him back. Or more like he didn’t seem to recognise Jason. He couldn’t blame the redhead though: after all, the one time they met had been… Before.

And that was so convenient.

Jason moaned.

“Hmmm… And here I was hoping for a bit of small talk,” the archer commented. Jason heard movement and then felt a shadow passing back and forth in front of the fire. He opened his eyes.

“I’m not a morning person.”

“Oh, well,” Harper threw his free thump over his shoulder, pointing to the darkness outside their shelter. ”That’s not going to be a problem, then.”

The archer was stirring something in a small pot hanging over the campfire. He seemed tense, but not overly wary. Just the right amount, and that made sense going by what Jason knew about him. Wasn’t Harper a former member of the Justice League and a Blade? He had been Oliver Queen’s partner at some point in his past, and that alone meant that he knew how to handle himself in a fight against the average mountain bandit. A Blade was basically an elite operative for the Ysmir nowadays; he had strong reasons to be confident in his fighting skills against almost anyone.

Not that Jason was anyone, though.

“How long?”

“Hmm?”

“For how long I have been out?”

“The sun has set about half an hour ago,” Harper said, glancing at the pot. He stirred the content a bit more and grabbed a wooden bowl from the bag at his feet. “Here,” he said, offering him the bowl. “Nothing like some warm food to fight cold.”

Jason sat up and took it with one hand, the other gripping the heavy hide—that was his only protection right now—the best he could. Harper, the bastard, was laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, it’s just, you don’t see the best impersonation of a human burrito every day.”

Jason growled, “I hate cold.”

“Yeah, I heard you.”

Silence.

Jason looked meticulously at the broth. It was some kind of thick soup with… Were those snowberries? He gave it a try.

“Ugh.”

“Whiner.”

It tasted like crap. Like really, ridiculously bitter crap. Weren't those snowberries, then?  _ Holy shit _ .

He swallowed it whole in a few gulps anyways.

“Thank you,” because, well, “For saving my life. And for the food, too.”

“You’re welcome. I was just helping a fellow traveller. Besides,” the archer shrugged and sipped off his own bowl, “you helped yourself a lot with that trick you pulled back there. You were already half dry when I found this place.”

Silence.

“So, you’re a hunter,” the redhead continued.

“Yep.”

Harper snorted and tilted his head to point the pile of brown, gray and red cloth moved away from them, sparks of fire reflecting in the few places where Jason’s weapons showed up, “Nice gear for a hunter.”

“No shame in being prepared.”

Harper hummed. “And what do you hunt, exactly?”

“Monsters.”

“Oh, that explains it,” he didn’t sound very convinced.

“I guess,” and now it was Jason’s turn to play twenty questions. “What about you, Red? You don’t seem especially concerned about helping a stranger armed to the teeth.”

“First, it’s Roy, not Red. Second,” he smiled and stood up to clean their bowls under the slender waterfall. “You’re naked, unarmed and still recovering from hypothermia. Not much of a threat.”

“I know some spells, you know.”

“Sure. But, see,“ he pointed to his flesh arm, visible without his fur cloak. “Woad. You better be a very fine spellcaster, buddy,” he smiled, confident.

Jason examined his arms. One was covered entirely by a scarlet red sleeve piece and a glove; he knew thanks to a bunch of League’s reports that it was some kind of mechanical prosthesis. The other one had a warpaint that caught his interest: an ashlander tribal. Not a nord one.

He smiled back. “Maybe I am.”

Harper hummed again. “I don’t know. I had to help you, after all.”

Silence.

“A human burrito,” Jason continued, glancing at himself, then at Roy. “You don’t look like a man from the Black Marsh.”

“I’m not, obviously. I’m from Stormhaven; but a family of argonians lived nearby where I grew up, and they took care of me a few times,” he smiled. “Strange people, but I liked them.” Then he sat beside Jason’s pile of belongings, lying his clothing near the fire to dry. “What about you, Jay? You don’t look like a reachman, and I don’t think you’re from Argonia either. Are you from this side of the world?” he asked, holding Jason’s serpentine dagger. It has been a gift from Talia; a reminder of his time as an assassin, and a very distinctive weapon.

As much as those akaviri dual copper swords that Roy was inspecting now. “I’ve travelled a lot,” and Jason wished the archer wouldn’t have, too. ”But yes, I am. Rift’s boy: a gothamite born and bred.”

“I bet you are,” Harper conceded, clearly amused. “Your accent is a good enough telltale, and I can’t think of any reason why anyone would want to fake that, being a good or a bad one.”

“Hey,” Jason retorted, “It’s not that bad. There are worse places. I mean, it’s a wet shithole, but...” Harper laughed.

“It’s funny. I’m on my way there, and here I find a gothamite drowning in a river, in the middle of nowhere, the other side of the country. You people have a thing for trouble.”

“What can I say? I’m a lucky man,” Jason shrugged. A plan had already formed in his mind. “I was heading east, too, when I landed this job. I don’t think you will get to cross the mountain pass until I finish with it.”

“What kind of trouble are we talking about?”

“A witch,” Jason answered. “I’m not asking for help; I still owe you a big one. But you’re welcome to if you want. Four hands are better and all that.”

“You said you hunt monsters.”

“I’m not killing her. I just need to retrieve something, bring it to my employer and then we both can resume our way to the valley.”

“Just like that.”

“It won’t be easy, but I think we both will do fine.” Jason wouldn’t tell him much more, though.

The redhead hummed thoughtful, suspiciously eyeing Jason. “And you say that I can’t cross the pass until this job is done.”

“They’ve blocked the way, yep.”

Silence.

“Alright, I’ll help you,” Harper agreed. “The storm has blown over, but I presume you don’t want to go right now, right?”

“Yeah, it’s not a good idea, going there blind.”

“In that case, if I were you, I would rest a bit more,” he said, while rolling Jason’s weapons inside a fur cape that he then used to rest his head over. “I’ll wake you up in a few hours, you watch over until dawn, and then we can go.”

“Deal,” Jason smiled and lay comfortably where he was. “I’ll trust you to keep alight my burning heart, Red.”

Harper tossed a small piece of firewood to their fire and laughed. “Goodnight, Jaybird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Holidays to everyone!
> 
> I'm having so much fun writing this that I wish I could write more often. I hope you enjoy this read as much as I did writing it.
> 
> By the way; you will get more context the further we progress in the story, but just in case, a bit of background on Tamriel in this future.
> 
> The Blades are now a group of fighters working for the Ysmir; they are something like the Outsiders. The Ysmir is just the title for the head of the Justice League, the faction in the north territories (Skyrim, High Rock and Morrowind) that fight against the Thalmor for their independence. The Empire still encompasses some of those provinces (Morrowind and High Rock), but the current emperor is just a puppet ruler. Thalmor and Justice League oppose each other, but not openly. It's like some kind of secret war right now. This all means that Skyrim is now an independent territory.
> 
> And because the game felt a bit small, I'll make its map larger; enough that walking it west to east will take several weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to ask anything? I'm always looking forward to read your polite comments. And if you think the tagging is lacking any tag, please, notify. I usually have a hard time choosing tags, to be honest.  
> 


End file.
